


Under the Maple Tree

by xxfirelighterxx



Series: Under the Maple Tree [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Series Castiel, Sam Winchester at Stanford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:31:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3863311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxfirelighterxx/pseuds/xxfirelighterxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time is cyclical. And yet, it marches forward with each hour, each minute, and each second, with uncompromising and unapologetic vicissitude. Forever oscillating between the minute life and death of every day, the seasons come and go, bringing with them the joy and heartbreak of such moments as they may come to each of us in turn. It is caught here, within such elements, that we find young Castiel Novak sitting under a budding maple tree, studying the polemic writings of Descartes and Kant, in the central cemetery of a small northeastern Oklahoma town during the spring of 2003.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Time is cyclical. And yet, it marches forward with each hour, each minute, and each second, with uncompromising and unapologetic vicissitude. Forever oscillating between the minute life and death of every day, the seasons come and go, bringing with them the joy and heartbreak of such moments as they may come to each of us in turn. It is caught here, within such elements, that we find young Castiel Novak sitting under a budding maple tree, studying the polemic writings of Descartes and Kant, in the central cemetery of a small northeastern Oklahoma town during the spring of 2003.  


It was overcast, warm, and slightly humid, but not unpleasantly so. Castiel’s black tank top and jeans remained dry, but clung to his narrow frame from the slight dampness in the air. The turning of each page in his text was a muted thump from having drawn in the air’s moisture, adding an extra weight to the depth of meaning inscribed on its surface. After an hour, Castiel looked up and wiped at the small trickle of sweat beginning to from under his long sloe colored hair, his long pale fingers tangling briefly in his bangs and causing a small aggravated grimace to form on his face before they were freed. With a small sigh he gazed around him, allowing his mind and eyes to rest from his reading, and absently chewed on his silver lip ring.  


On the ground next to his hand, Castiel made out an inky black American oil beetle slowly crawling westward towards a nearby sprouting dandelion, and a pill bug marching towards the base of the maple tree’s truck at his side. He flicked it away with a flourish, and drew some small satisfaction at maintaining his arboreal domain. Above him, on the oak tree a few plots over, a band of Starlings flitted before startling off at the sound of the groundskeeper opening the equipment shed at the north end. Then finding himself alone again, and deciding that there should be another five or six more hours of daylight to read by, Castiel turned his gaze once again to his studies.  


It was only dimly that Castiel registered the sound of the lawn mower purr to life, with its monotonous roar flaring once and then settling into his mind, like river silt during the spring monsoon. It was not until the engine clicked off some four feet from his position around two hours later, that Castiel was able to register the proximity of the ever nearing grass cutter. The startling silence tore Castiel’s gaze upwards from his studies to see what happened, and found himself under the direct scrutiny of the groundskeeper’s gaze. A man stood there, medium height and swarthy, with sweat dripping down his face and arms. His wet brown shirt clung to his stocky frame, highlighting his strong forearms and broad shoulders, and little blades of grass stuck to his body as if clinging onto life itself. The man's moss green eyes bore down onto Castiel, and he found himself scrambling upward onto his feet, fumbling with his books, and dropping them in embarrassment. The other man smiled then, and reached to give him a hand, bending down to pick up Castiel's backpack and proffer it to him.  


“I’m sorry. I guess I just lost track of where I was for a minute there.” Castiel said. He felt like a deer might, ready to dart away, but caught in the glare of oncoming traffic.  


“It’s no problem. I wondered how long it would take you to notice me standing there. Usually, the big, angry, loud lawn mower is enough for people to get the picture.” The groundskeeper replied, handing Castiel his black book bag.  


Castiel felt heat rise onto his cheeks at this and he awkwardly latched onto the proffered strap of his pack and stammered, “I didn't mean to trouble...” and stopped as he looked fully into the man's face. The other man smirked, one eye brow raised, waited for him to finish. And suddenly he felt it, the overwhelming urge to be anywhere else. Breaking eye contact and sliding his back onto his shoulder he said, “Um, I better go,” and turned away as quickly as he could to leave.  
He straightened his shoulders as he walked, long legs carrying his stride forward in the direction of his car near the visitor parking, and tried to hide the sheer mortification he felt from the encounter.  


“I could just die,” Castiel said to himself, tossing his books and bags into the passenger seat of his pearl black Charger. As he slid the keys into the ignition, the irony of it all hit him and he laughed weakly. “Well, if I had to die, I guess a cemetery is as good of a place as any to do it.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was a quick drive home to the small two bedroom house that he and his little brother, Grayson, rented close to downtown where he worked at the library. The white paint was cracked and flaking in places where it had grown too brittle to handle the changing seasons after so many years without reapplication. A sweet potato vine grew around the edge of the house, its roots digging into the exposed wooden slats of the house's exterior, giving the house a slightly abandoned look. 

Castiel parked the Charger out front and hefted his pack from the front seat and headed inside, making sure his baby was locked up tight against burglars. He and Grayson didn't have much in the world besides that car and each other since their parents died 8 years ago in a house fire. He was 17 at the time and Grayson was 10. Fortunately the judge deemed Castiel a worthy guardian for his little brother, since the only remaining option was living with their father's second cousins, who they had never met, up in Maine. He heard they weren't pleasant people. So, Castiel quit school his senior year to work full time and got his GED in order to support them both. It wasn't easy, but he never minded it so long as his little brother could have as normal of a life as possible. When Grayson turned 16, Castiel applied at the regional university nearby, and started attending part time. That was two years ago, and somehow everything seemed to be working out alright. 

As Castiel walked up the front steps he noticed that Grayson was home from school already and had started cooking supper. Unlocking the front door and stepping inside quietly, Castiel dumped his bag and keys onto the lumpy couch in the living room and headed to the kitchen. 

“What'cha makin’ Gray?” he asked. 

“White chili. But we are out of corn chips, so you're going to have to deal.” Grayson replied, not looking up while stirring the pot on the stove. His little brother was dressed in a dark grey thermal sweater that had seen better days and a pair of his older brother’s black jeans. They had to go to the laundromat again soon or they would be down to their gym clothes in no time. His eyes were a gunmetal grey to Castiel's own icy blue, but their matching sloe colored hair and height left no doubt to the casual passerby of their shared genetics. 

“I'm hurt Gray. I thought you loved me. You can't eat chili without chips. Its blasphemy.” Castiel said, edging around the kitchen counter to reach the refrigerator. Grayson turned around brandished the chili spoon. “Do you want to eat? Because if not, then I can stop what I am doing right now. Besides, if it matters so much to you, then you should go do something about it.” 

“But, I just got home. I don’t want go anywhere.” Castiel said, grabbing the handle to the refrigerator door and pulling it open to peer inside. 

“Then stop bitching. Really, I thought I was supposed to be the younger one here.” Grayson replied. 

“Ugh! Fine. We're out of beer anyhow. I'll go run to the gas station and pick them both up. Is there anything else you desire my liege?” Castiel said, shutting the refrigerator door and walking back into the living room for his keys. 

“Chocolate! You ate the last of our stash yesterday while you were doing homework. And I need my fix.” Grayson yelled from the stove. An hour later they were happily munching on chips and chili when Grayson spoke. 

“So, I went to the library earlier to study and talked to Cathy. We think we may have found you a date.” 

Castiel looked up from his food at this, and eyed his little brother, letting his skepticism show. 

“Gray, we are in the middle of the Bible belt, you know I can’t date here. Every homophobic asshole within five hundred feet would come out with their torches and pitchforks.” 

“That’s not true Cas. Everyone in town loves you, and no one has ever said anything rude to us about your being gay before.” Grayson said. 

“Well, I don’t exactly shove it in their faces either,” he paused for emphasis, “because I don't date,” he replied, punctuating the last three words with the jabbing of his spoon into the mess within his bowl, each word accompanied with a loud clack. Then, thinking the matter resolved, he began to tuck into his supper once again. 

But Grayson wasn't finished with the subject yet. 

“Look, just one date. I'll set up everything, and if you don’t like it, then we will never talk about it again.” He said. 

“Gray, I swear to god, if you don't drop it right now, I'll shut the cable off, and you'll never know a moment of happiness or leisure again.” 

“Fine.” Grayson replied, and huffed audibly before finally averting his eyes from his brother to focus on the now tasteless food in front of him. 

The brothers ate the remainder of their supper in silence, with only the sound of their utensils clinking against their bowls. Castiel picked up after them, washing the dishes and cleaning the stove when they were finished, feeling guilty for snapping at his little brother. They hardly ever fought, not since their parents died, and a sour taste filled his mouth from the atmospheric change that had taken over their usually easy going relationship. After finishing up with the dishes, Castiel headed outside. The confines of their home felt overwhelmingly oppressive, and he needed some fresh air to clear his head. 

The moment he stepped onto the porch however, Castiel felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly, a roiling mass of worry and nerves. The Charger was gone. He realized then that Grayson had taken her for a drive, probably still mad at him for supper, to blow off some steam. Yet, it could not stop him from clenching his fingers into fists at his sides, as he struggled to calm himself from a rising feeling of futility and hopelessness at the situation. The last time they fought like this, Grayson had been out all night, only to come back home a giggling mess and reeking of sunk weed bought from some lowlife three towns over.


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning Castiel awoke to the smell of bacon burning on the stove and coffee brewing in the pot. Grayson must have come back home sometime in the middle of the night, somehow sneaking past his sprawled figure lying awkwardly on the couch from where he fell asleep waiting for his brother’s return. Grimacing he rose from his position, and stretched his back and neck from the aches that were settling into his bones from having been subjected to sleeping in such an unnatural position all night, and headed into the kitchen just as Grayson was setting down their plates. 

“Gray,” Castiel began, pulling out the chair in front of his spot at the table, and sitting down. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Grayson interrupted. 

“Look, I know you don’t. I just want to say I am sorry for being a dick okay. I’m sorry.” Castiel said. 

“Does this mean you’re willing to consider what I was offering last night Cas?” He replied, plucking absently at the corner of the kitchen counter, and not daring to look down at his brother. 

Castiel sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck again, feeling a headache forming at the base of his skull. There was only one way to end this. “I don’t see why it means so much to you.” He said. 

“So … that’s a yes then. Great, I’ll get in touch with Cathy and we can set you up with this guy.” Grayson said. He clapped his hands together and smiled mischievously adding, “Maybe even tomorrow night since it will be Sunday and the library will be closed.” 

“Why do I put up with this? You’re a snot nosed punk, you know that Gray?” Castiel groaned. He just knew that this would be the longest weekend of his life. Sunday afternoon found Castiel waiting in his car outside of the town’s only Italian restaurant. It was a classy establishment, only built last year and still glowing with fresh paint among the more aged and decrepit store fronts lining the rest of the street. He sat there nervously, listening to the radio, teething his lip ring, and checking his reflection. Fitted from head to toe in his customary black on black ensemble, Grayson had talked him into wearing the tie he received from a coworker last year for Christmas, and a touch of eyeliner to highlight his features. The tie was a fine black silk number, with tiny little red skull and crossbones placed subtly throughout the weave so they weren’t exactly noticeable unless close attention was paid to them. 

After a moment’s hesitation longer he exited his car and entered the restaurant. After giving his name, the host directed him to a booth in the back corner of the bar section. The gentleman sitting there was perhaps thirty or forty, with blonde hair in a ridiculous pompadour, and dressed in cream colored suit with a baby blue button up that was opened at the collar to reveal a scandalous amount of tanned chest. Castiel felt himself cringe at the sight. It was too bright, and the smile the other man emitted upon his seating reminded him of a shark. 

“So, you must be Cass.” The man said. 

“I prefer Castiel, and your name?” Castiel asked as he lowered himself into the opposite side of the booth, and wished furiously that he was anywhere else. 

“I’m Peter Michaels. You can call me Pete. I own a car lot over in Elm’s Hollow. Can I get you anything to drink, maybe put your nerves at ease?” He said, smiling and sipping from an already half empty martini glass. 

“Ah...” Castiel picked up the menu, and put it down again without reading, “Whiskey. Whiskey and coke I think.” He said, his mind racing to determine what amount of alcohol he would need to get through the date, and still be able to drive home again after. 

“A bourbon man. I knew I liked the look of you. Tell you what. I make a fantastic mint julep. Maybe you can come over to my place sometime and I can mix you one up?” Pete said. 

“Ah, thanks. Maybe some other time.” Castiel replied. 

“Of course. Of course. No pressure here. Just making conversation. So, tell me about yourself Cass.” 

“Castiel, please. My name is Castiel.” 

“Sure thing Cass. What do you do for a living?” 

“I work,” Castiel began, only to have himself interrupted. 

“Because I told you I was in the car selling business right? Lots of money there. Why just last week I sold a Maserati to this douche up in Hapsburg.” A low thrumming began to build at the base of Castiel’s temples, as his date droned on about the joys of car sales. How Cathy and Grayson had ever imagined this night working out well was becoming more and more ludicrous as the seconds ticked by. The man across from him was absurd. Every time he asked Castiel a question, he would pause only for a second, just long enough to take a breath and continue talking on without allowing Castiel a word in edgewise. When the waiter finally arrived, Castiel felt a small glimmer of hope at being allowed to speak at last, but that too was denied him as Pete ensued to order for both of them, and suddenly he felt his temper flare. 

“Excuse me,” he interrupted Pete’s instruction to the waiter, and rose from his seat, “I am afraid this was a mistake. I’m leaving.” 

“What? You can’t be serious man. You haven’t even had a drink yet. We were just getting to know each other.” Pete said, attempting to take hold of Castiel’s shirt sleeve. Castiel looked at Pete, and said as calmly as he could, “I am not interested in what you’re selling Pete. Have a nice night.” He turned away, and calmly began walking toward the door. Causing a scene was the last thing that he wanted right now, but there was absolutely no way that he was going to go through a meal like this. As Castiel reached the door he could hear Pete trying to rush through paying his tab in order to catch up with him before exiting the restaurant. He ducked out as quickly as he could – landing squarely into the frame of his little brother. 

“What the,” Castiel looked down at his little brother, who was knocked down onto the floor trying to pick himself up, “Gray? What are you doing here?” He reached down to give his little brother a hand, and pulled him to his feet. 

“I was just making sure you weren’t trying to sneak out Cas. I had the feeling that you were going to try and bail on your first date.” Grayson said with a smirk, and peered over his shoulder where Castiel’s date was distantly approaching from behind. “And it looks like I was right. What’s going on?” 

Castiel clenched his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Now is not a good time Gray. We are leaving.” Castiel grabbed ahold of his brother’s coat and walked towards the door. Grayson resisted a moment before a sharp, “Now!” was barked at him, and then he followed his brother outside. 

Once they were both inside the Charger and driving away, Castiel looked over at his brother who was studiously paying attention to nothing whatsoever and said to him, 

“What the hell was all of that?” The entire night had been beyond ridiculous and he wanted answers. The more Castiel thought about everything that had happened from the moment he agreed to go along with his little brother’s dating scheme, the angrier he became. He clutched at the steering wheel tightly, waiting for his brother to speak up. 

“Well,” Grayson began, “you see, Cathy and me figured that no matter how great the date was, you would try and find something wrong. We knew that Peter wasn’t your type, but we just wanted to show you that while the date might not work out because of their personality, it wouldn’t be because of their gender. Okay?” He was looking up panicked, to see his brother’s reaction at this revelation, hoping that his honesty and good intentions were coming through. He’d had a good idea that the date would go south, everything that Cathy told him about the guy was about as different from his brother as night from day, but he had no idea that it would be so bad that his brother would wind up barreling him out of the restaurant in a mad dash towards freedom. All he wanted was for his brother to step a little outside his comfort zone, start opening up to others so he could have a shot at happiness in life. After so many years of his older brother taking care of him all on his own, Grayson figured that it was about time for his brother to start taking care of himself for a while. He was 18 now, old enough to take care of himself, but his brother seemed to have a hard time letting go of his responsibilities as guardian. One day, when they could both afford it, he would move out, and then where would his brother be? Old and alone with no one to talk to? Not if he had anything to say about it. 

Castiel turned onto the side of the road and slammed on the breaks. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Was this whole thing a joke to you? Were you coming in the restaurant to spy on me? You knew I wouldn’t like him. The guy’s a creep! Was it so you could laugh at me being miserable? Is that it Gray? Is it?” He stared straight ahead, afraid that if he even so much as looked at his brother he would do something worth regretting. 

“No, Cas. You’ve got to believe me.” Grayson looked at his brother, seeing him still clutching the wheel, he continued speaking quickly, “I just wanted you see that while dating can be scary because you’re still trying to figure out what kind of person they are, it doesn’t have to be scary because of their gender. Alright?” 

Castiel didn’t say anything to this, but looked at his brother sitting next to him not breaking eye contact and still angry, but trying to weigh the truth in his words. After a minute he looked back onto the road and started driving home, teeth worrying his lip ring the entire way. When they pulled into the driveway Castiel placed the car in park, but left the engine still running as he turned to his brother once more. 

“I realize that you think you were only trying to help, but my life is my business. I did this as a favor for you, so that you would stop being a little bitch, and to have you set me up like this really pisses me off. I love you, but I need some time to myself right now. Get out. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Grayson looked at him, blue eyes tight, and slumped in his seat before placing his hand on the car’s door handle. As he opened it he glanced back at his brother and said, “Where are you going?” 

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He just needed to be alone, and hearing his brother’s voice just made everything worse. “That is none of your business Gray. Now just please,” he said, straining the last word, “get out.”


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel let out a breath he didn’t realize that he had been holding the moment Grayson did what he was asked, and another when he watched his brother enter the house and shut the door behind him. Suddenly he felt tired, and realized that he was hungry since his dinner plans had been so thoroughly botched. He reversed out of the driveway and headed back into town. After almost an hour of driving around town in circles, undecided about where to go he was forced to take drive-thru fast food at a cheap Chinese joint since everywhere else had already closed. After ordering enough food to feed a small army, he sat there in the car with his food in his lap for a minute before deciding to head to the only place he felt safe. 

It took a few minutes to find his way using the emergency flashlight to navigate in the dark, but eventually he found his usual place. The old maple next to the Novak family plot stood silently, waiting for him to take his place beneath its sheltering arms. Its budding branches curved overhead, like dew beaded spider web filaments, swaying softly in the night breeze. He held his flash light in one hand, and maneuvered the grease stained Chinese take-out bag in the other until he had situated himself at the base of the tree. With his back pressed against the tree trunk, he balanced the flashlight on his lap and began to open up the little food boxes and line them up so he could remember where they were. He sat this way, fumbling with his chopsticks and trying to eat in the awkward glow the light in his lap, until in a brilliant moment of insight, he thought to plant the flashlight’s handle in the ground before him, and shade its brilliant glow with the paper bag like a lamp. 

When he had reached the Mongolian beef carton, he noticed the approach of another’s flashlight, its incandescent glow arcing towards the ground before it illuminating the way. Castiel sighed, dropping his chopsticks into the take-out container and set it on the ground, waiting for the intruder to approach. While he figured that there might in fact be someone to watch the cemetery grounds at night, he never had cause to meet them. Sitting out here now, in the glow of his makeshift lamp in the cool night air felt more soothing than he had ever thought it would be and he wondered why he had never done it before. Perhaps it was because of this that he did not hurriedly pack up his things and take off as others might have, perhaps it was his exhaustion. I don’t think even he would be able to say. 

After a few minutes the figure finally approached, having taken their time coming over from the far north end of the grounds. Castiel had expected to be yelled at, to be shooed away like an unwanted stray cat on an allergic suburbanite’s porch. Instead, the figure approached slowly, drawing closer to the glow of his paper lantern, shut off his light, and sat down. Moss green eyes peered at him on the other side of his lamp. 

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you out here at night.” He said, his voice sounding a low deep baritone. It was deep and smooth like quality bourbon sipped mid-autumn, somehow feeling warm without burning. 

“I had a bad day. Didn’t want to go home yet.” Castiel replied. He felt raw, like his soul had been scrubbed clean too hard, and left pinned to the line to dry in a summer rain. 

“Couldn’t have been that bad, could it? Surely you have better places to be at this time of night than a graveyard.” 

“Not really, besides, it’s nice out here. Quiet. Peaceful.” Castiel leaned forward and looked closer. The groundskeeper was wearing a plain white cotton shirt, a dark colored pair of sweats, and Vans, like he had just woken up and come outside. “I guess you live here?” He asked. 

“Yea, since last August. Moved here from Texas when my uncle passed on. He was the caretaker before me. How about you?” 

Castiel sat there – suddenly feeling nervous – and looked away, fingers tugging at the grass in front of him, and lip ring caught between his teeth, before he spoke. “I um. I live downtown in a rental with my brother. I ah, I work at the library during the week, and take classes part time at the university.” He paused and took a shaky breath. “We’ve been here for a while. Our parents died when Gray was 10 so I had to raise him.” 

“Is Gray your brother’s name?” He said. Castiel drew in a deep breath. 

“Yea.” 

“What’s your name?” He said. 

“Castiel. Castiel Novak, but my brother calls me Cas.” Castiel paused and looked into his eyes. “What’s yours?” 

The groundskeeper grinned, and leaned forward on his knees, bracing his weight with one arm as he reached out to extend his hand, “I’m Dean Winchester.”


End file.
